Page 3

Chapter 3

The one where Jeff’s heart gets spilled in aisle five.

The next day is Thanksgiving, and the house is buzzing with that warm, chaotic holiday energy. The smell of turkey and pie fills the air, and I can hear Lucy humming in the kitchen, flipping through old cookbooks like she’s auditioning for a cooking show. It should be comforting, but I can’t relax. Every time I try to settle into the couch or lean against the kitchen counter, something stirs inside me. Like there’s a stone lodged in my chest that won’t sit still. I feel boxed in, like I’m trapped between wanting to be here and this gnawing restlessness I can’t explain.

Lucy announces we’re out of snacks, which, according to her, is a complete catastrophe. I try to argue that we don’t need more chips, but before I know it, she’s dragging me out to the grocery store.

It’s a madhouse inside—frantic shoppers darting around, their carts overflowing with last-minute holiday ingredients. The aisles are packed, kids screaming and crying as their parents try to wrangle them. The overhead lights buzz, sharp and too bright, like they’re boring into my skull. The noise, the chaos, the heat of too many bodies pressed into one space. It’s the last place I want to be right now.

I grit my teeth, following Lucy, but every muscle in my body is tense. My eyes dart around, scanning for an escape route like I’m trapped in a cage. When did it start bothering me so much? I used to love this kind of energy. Back in high school, I thrived on it: the noise, the attention, the thrill of being on the field with everyone watching.

I think back to those Friday night high school football games, the roar of the crowd filling my ears, the adrenaline pumping through me. Jamie and I were two of the most popular guys on the team. Me, the easygoing flirt who always had a joke ready, and Jamie, the golden boy who could do no wrong. We were unstoppable back then, the perfect duo. I loved the chaos of it all. The fans cheering, the pressure, the buzz of being in the spotlight... It made me feel alive.

But Jamie? He was different. I remember how he’d get quiet before games, tuning out the noise, like he had to build a wall between himself and the chaos to stay focused. He’s always been like that—hating crowded, noisy places. Even at parties, he could be the life of the party if he wanted, but he’d drift to the edges instead, content to watch and listen rather than dive into the chaos. I used to tease him about it, but looking back now, I wonder if he was just better at knowing what he needed, at protecting himself from getting overwhelmed.

It’s strange. I used to soak up the attention, bask in the noise like it was my fuel. When did that start shifting for me? When did the chaos stop being fun and start feeling like a trap?

I shake the thought off, but it lingers like a bad taste in my mouth. My mind drifts back to our senior year, the end-of-year awards. Jamie was voted Most Likely to Succeed. No surprise there. Everyone knew he’d do something great. He had that spark, that ambition that made people believe in him. I remember watching him up on stage, grinning ear to ear, and thinking that he looked like he belonged there, like the world was already bending toward him, ready to hand him everything he wanted.

I can’t help but wonder now. What’s he doing with his life? Is he happy? Is he out there, living up to that superlative in ways I never imagined? I feel this warm, affectionate ache in my chest, a mix of pride and longing. I want to know everything, but the thought also terrifies me. What if he’s changed completely? What if I don’t even recognize the person he’s become?

And then there’s what I was voted for: Biggest Flirt. The memory makes me smile, but there’s an emptiness to it now, like it was all part of a character I played back then. I can still picture the photo—me, throwing up a peace sign, grinning like I didn’t have a care in the world. It felt like a badge of honor back then, like I’d won something just by being the guy everyone wanted to be around.

But now? It feels hollow. What the hell was I flirting with back then? Did I really care about any of it? Did anyone see the real me, or was it all just a performance?

I shake my head, pushing the thought away as we turn down the snack aisle. I’m barely holding it together, counting down the seconds until we can get out of this place. That’s when I hear it—a voice cutting through the noise, low and familiar, like a note struck perfectly in tune.

Jamie.

The way he says my name is like it’s woven into the fabric of who I am. It hasn’t changed since the day we met—playful, hopeful, soft. It wraps around me, and for a split second, I feel seen in a way I’ve spent years trying to forget. It stirs something deep, something I’ve buried, something that feels too big to look at directly.

It’s like my body knows before my brain catches up, every nerve standing at attention.

His voice slices through the chaos, warm and steady, wrapping around me like a lifeline. It’s like being hit by a wave of memory, like every late-night conversation and stolen glance is crashing back all at once. My chest tightens, and the ground feels like it’s slipping out from under me.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my ears. I turn around, bracing myself, and there he is—standing just a few feet away, looking like he’s stepped straight out of my memories.

His blonde hair is longer, sweeping down over his forehead in that effortlessly messy way he used to hate. He’s smiling, wide and genuine, and there’s this brightness to his face I wasn’t expecting. He looks almost... younger. Or maybe I’m just seeing him through the haze of memory, colored by everything I’ve tried to forget. He seems shorter than I remember, but that’s probably because I’ve somehow grown since graduation. We used to be eye-to-eye, but now I have to look down a little, and it feels strangely intimate, like I’m seeing him from a new angle I’m not sure how to handle.

Jamie’s still lean and toned, his jawline sharper than before, but there’s this softness to his expression, the same boyish charm that’s always been there. My heart’s racing so fast I can feel it in my throat. I’m staring, trying to take in every detail like my brain can’t process seeing him after all this time.

It’s been four years, but when his brown eyes meet mine, it feels like no time has passed at all. The distance, the silence, the years apart—they vanish in an instant. It’s like falling into a memory, and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or terrified. I’ve built walls around these feelings for so long, but they’re crumbling fast, and I can’t stop it.

“Hi,” I manage, my voice coming out flat and breathless. That’s all I’ve got. Great . Real smooth, Jeff.

Lucy’s wide-eyed next to me, barely holding back a laugh. Of course she knows. She called this back when we were sitting in the damn car on the way in. I elbow her hard, shooting her a glare. She smirks but gets the hint and steps away, still grinning like she’s enjoying the show.

Jamie watches her go, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You brought a girl home,” he says, shaking his head with that familiar, teasing smile. “She’s gorgeous... Nice work, Reed. Though I’ve got to say, don’t you usually go for brunettes? The bleach blonde hair is throwing me off.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “That’s Lucy... We’re just friends,” I say quickly, almost tripping over the words. “And she’s a natural brunette, she’s just a liar.”

Jamie’s grin widens, and he bites his bottom lip like he’s holding back a laugh. “Good to know you’re still an ass,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“What’d I do?!” I protest, but I can feel the smile tugging at my own lips.

“Blondes are better anyway,” he shoots back, eyes glinting with that playful spark I remember too well. “You’re missing out.”

There’s this beat of silence between us, like the air’s gone electric. He’s watching me, his gaze steady and knowing, like he’s reading every thought in my head. I can see it in his eyes, he doesn’t buy the ‘just friends’ line for a second. He’s always been able to see through my bullshit.

Lucy was right. Those old feelings hit me like a freight train. I’ve spent years trying to bury them, but standing here now, looking at Jamie’s smile, it’s like every defense I’ve built is crumbling. That same genuine, warm smile that made me feel like the only person who mattered. I can’t help it—before I even know what I’m doing, I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him.

Jamie hugs me back, and it’s like the world narrows down to just this moment, just the two of us. His grip is tight, almost desperate, his arms wrapping around me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. He presses against me, close enough that I can feel his breath warm against my collarbone. My pulse is pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else. There’s this electric charge between us, this crackling energy that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact: his touch, his warmth, the way his fingers dig into my back like he’s anchoring himself.

“What have you been eating?” Jamie laughs against my chest, the sound muffled but light. “You’re huge.”

I blink, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re like seven feet tall now!” he says, pulling back slightly to look up at me, his eyes crinkling with that same playful glint. “What the hell happened?”

I chuckle, resting my chin on his head without thinking, ignoring the way my heart is still racing. “I’m not that tall.”

Jamie’s laugh vibrates through me, but when he pulls away, I feel this sharp pang of disappointment, like I’ve lost something.

Did I want that hug to last longer? Is that weird?

“I missed you a lot,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Shit. Where did that come from?

The words hang in the air, and I can feel my face burning, panic surging in my chest.

Jamie’s expression softens, his brown eyes meeting mine with a tenderness that makes my chest feel tight, like I can’t get enough air. “I missed you too,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering. He’s looking right at me, straight into my eyes, like he’s unafraid of whatever he might find there. It’s unsettling, that calm, steady look. It’s like he’s the one who’s moved on, like he’s the one who’s at peace with what happened between us.

Meanwhile, I can’t hold his gaze for more than a second. I glance away, pretending to focus on something—on the cracked tile floor, the garish Thanksgiving-themed displays lining the aisle, even the ceiling lights buzzing overhead. But I can still feel his eyes on me, unflinching. It’s like Jamie’s gaze is pinning me in place, forcing me to confront everything I’ve tried to bury.

The guilt gnaws at me, sharper than ever now. He’s standing here, smiling at me like nothing’s changed, like I didn’t choose to simply vanish out of his life. It hits me that he’s the one who should be angry, hurt, cold. But instead, it’s me who’s falling apart, and it’s him who looks composed.

Why isn’t he angry? How can he look at me like that, like he still sees something good in me? The thought makes my stomach twist with shame. I keep avoiding his eyes, but it’s useless—every time I glance back at him, he’s already looking, his expression open and steady, like he’s daring me to hold the moment with him.

The tension between us is thick. It’s probably only been a few seconds of silence, but it stretches on, feeling like minutes. I can’t stop noticing the way his lips curve up into that soft, familiar smile, the one that used to feel like it was just for me. And I hate the way it makes my heart race, the way it pulls me in, even now. It feels like the ground beneath me is shifting.

Why did I ghost him like that? I’ve asked myself that a thousand times, but standing here now, the answer feels more complicated than ever. I look away again, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the way my hands are trembling. I’m the one who walked away, but it feels like he’s the one who’s left me behind.

“So, how long are you here for?” Jamie asks, releasing me from my torturous prison of overthinking while sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Until tomorrow night,” I reply, aiming for casual, but my voice wavers. He notices. Of course he does.

“Think we could hang out?” he asks, and there’s a vulnerability in his tone that catches me off guard.

My heart skips a beat. “Hang out?”

“Yeah, like old times.”

What ‘old times’ is he fucking talking about? I’m floundering, my brain scrambling for an excuse, a way out. I glance over my shoulder, searching for Lucy. She’s nowhere in sight. I’m on my own, and I feel like a complete idiot.

“Uh… Lucy—”

“The blonde can come too,” Jamie says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re both welcome.”

“…Okay, sure,” I force myself to agree, because what else can I say?

Jamie’s smile widens, and it’s like a punch to the gut. “Do you still have my number?”

My stomach drops. That unread text.

"Yeah,” I mutter, feeling the blood rush to my face.

“Okay, just call me when you’re free. I have my own place now… Maybe we can order pizza or something,” Jamie says, casually, like this isn’t throwing my entire world off its axis.

“Yeah… I’ll text you,” I manage, but my voice sounds far away, like I’m talking through a thick fog. I can barely process his words, I’m too busy trying to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest.

Jamie’s lips curl into a grin, and he bites his bottom lip, brushing his hair back with a careless flick of his hand. His soft brown eyes linger on mine a beat too long, filled with a knowing look, like he can read every thought racing through my head.

He tilts his head, giving me this subtle, teasing wink that sends a jolt straight through me, hot and unexpected.

“Cool,” he says, his voice light and easy. "I'll talk to you later."

My face heats up, and I give a clumsy half-wave before turning to leave, nearly tripping over my own feet in my rush to get away. I can feel his eyes on my back, and it only makes the blush spread down my neck. Fuck, I’m a mess.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I find Lucy in the checkout line, my heart pounding, hands shaking like I’ve just run a marathon. I still have feelings for him. Big feelings. Intense, aching, impossible-to-ignore feelings. It’s not a question anymore, it’s a fact. I’ve tried to bury it, to move on, but seeing him just now ripped everything wide open. All I can think about is pulling him back into my arms, holding on tight, and kissing him until he can't breathe.

Why the hell did I think coming back here was a good idea?